


Toy of the Condesce

by JeckParadox



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Romance, F/M, Fluff, Moirallegiance, Multi, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeckParadox/pseuds/JeckParadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat was fully expecting to be culled when he showed up to be taken off-world. To his amazement , he found a moirail instead.<br/>Sucked into the life of Alternian High Command, Karkat finds himself the moirail of )(IC, a target of envy from ancient nobles, and wrapped up in the machinations of more than one ancient cult. He had dreamed all his life of standing at the Condesce's right hand. Now they had come true, but as a comforter rather than a warrior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pale Serendipity

She marched in, set her eyes upon him, and every muscle in his body froze up. She made her way across the room in what seemed like an instant, and in less time than that her fingers are around his throat, lifting him into the air and squeezing. 

"What. The Shell. Are you doin' here." She growls out, pink tears are running down the side of her face, but the rest of her face is made up of nothing but pure fury. Every piece of the countless gold decorations and jewelry in the throne room crackles with the electricity of her psychic powers. She tosses him across the room, and he lets out a painful grunt as he impacts against the wall, all the breath in his body knocked out of him. The moment he seems to be able to move his hands he covers his throat, but his arms are wrenched aside as she yanks him back up effortlessly by his shoulder.

She stops, all of a sudden, once she sees the bruise on his neck. 

"Oh fuck." He stammers out. 

"...y-yeah. You're important." Her eyes are suddenly distant. She drops him unceremoniously, and moves over to her throne, dropping just as bonelessly as he did, all the rage and energy draining out. "I still have stuff to do." She says, sighing, bending down and wiping the tyrian pink from her face and rubbing it from her hands into the cushion of the same color. "...need to focus..." She seems to stammer, before letting out a sob, sinking deeper into her throne and shaking silently. A gasp coming from her occasionally as she held herself and cried. 

The younger troll got up hesitantly, and inched closer to the throne, unsure of what else to do. 

Her Imperious Condescension, living Nightmare of the Universe, Empress of the Alternian Empire, Commander in Reef of the Alternian Interstellar Battlefleet, terror of a thousand worlds, and the Sole Possesor of the Tyrannical Tyrian Blood, Supreme Highest of the Hemospectrum, was sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. 

He had absolutely no idea of what to do. An escape attempt would be suicide, obviously, he had seen the massive indigo-and-black armored Subjuggulator Guards on the other side of the doors. And even if he got past them, he'd be stuck in the middle of Space, trapped on board with hundreds of psychics as well as hundreds of other trolls who simply wanted to kill him for the fun of it. But to stay, to have seen the Empress in this pitiful state, obviously would mean a summary execution all the same.

He wasn't truly thinking, letting his body move closer on its own. He found himself standing directly before the Condesce, and without fully realizing what he was doing, he put one hand on her cheek. The sobbing stopped immediately, her eyes shot open, fresh with renewed fury, but it cooled quickly, she allowed him to put his other hand on her face, cupping her much larger head. 

He hesitated for a few seconds, but realizing that she wasn't killing him, he moved forward, patting the sides of her face gently and quietly shushing the renewed sniffling. 

They continued for a few minutes. She occasionally bubbled up with more renewed crying, and he slowly calmed her back down. Soon she was only mildly hiccuping, and he was standing off to the side of her throne, at arms' length. 

"...Kid, what's your name?"

"...K-Karkat Vantas."

"And what the everliving fresh fuck did you think you were doin' just now?"

"I... I don't know." He hesitated, trying to keep his own voice quiet, "You just seemed like you... needed it?"

They were both quiet for a time, and she looked at him in earnest for the first time. Sizing him up. From his view it looked predatory, like she was evaluating whether he was even worth the effort to kill before she ate him. 

He decides to bite the metaphorical, and possibly, soon, quite literal bullet. "Are you going to kill me?" 

She keeps staring at him, with the same predatory look. "...nah." She finally says. "Nah." She grabs him, and pulls him onto the throne with her. She's nearly four times his height, and the throne was large even for her. She sets him in her lap, and wraps both arms around him. "...Just shut up for a while. Your voice is pretty gratin'."

"O-ok."

She gets a malicious half-smirk. "What did I _just_ say, mutant."

"S-" He catches himself and bites his own lip, staring ahead and refusing to breath a noise. 

"You don't have to hold your damn breath."

He lets out a little air from his nose, but refuses to open his mouth, sitting incredibly tense on the lap of the Empress, with both of her arms held across his chest. She shifts in the seat, pushing him a little back and having him lie against her stomach. Karkat wasn't aware of just how cold her body was until his entire back was pressed into her. He fidgets slightly, unsure of what to do or even functionally wrapping his mind around his current situation, when a cool, massive hand cups his entire head, patting him a few times as she lets out a long "shoooosh, brat." She continually petted his head, her claws combing through his entire head of hair, as he found himself instinctually relaxing. "Don't worry Vantas." She begins. "Nofin's goin' to hurt you here. Just relax, stop juttin' your elbows into me." He lets himself become slightly less tense, the adrenaline and fear beginning to slowly ebb away with the rush of pale hormones. She leans back completely, letting him lean with her belly and relax completely.

He was very, very confused. But it was also inexplicably comfortable, lying down on the cool surface of her chest, breathing in tune with her and being silent without having to hold his breath. 

His eyes droop slightly, and he wants to shake the drowsiness from his head, but he doesn't want to shake her hand, still stroking the top of his skull, to get shaken off, so he lets it come. Within five minutes his eyes close, and he falls asleep on the lap of the Empress of a thousand worlds. The nightmares come, as usual, but they're duller, pacified by the continual petting of his head, of the pulse of blood from another heart beating just a few inches from his ears. 

* * *

 

She never even showed up. Even without the telepathic irritated murmurs of her Lusus, she knew her Heiress wouldn't show up. There had been countless others, in the long reign of the Condescension. Girls not even tall enough to reach her knees, even one or two boys, somehow, echoes of male pink-bloods so far back in history that they've forgotten permanently. All cut down mercilessly in the name of continuing her rule. This one though, this selfish little beach, does the absolute unthinkable, and runs. 

It's not just disgust at her lack of ambition, of her outright refusal of the authority that belonged to her by blood. It's their mother, their Lusus, who demands they fight. It's for the entire troll race. They must fight, there must be one Queen, or the hive falls apart. Or Gl'bgolyb kills everyone. Its despicable, its ingenious, really. By running, the Condesce will be forced to stay on the homeworld, and pacify their Lusus, to keep the horror-terror from destroying the Empire with its psychic screams. While the Heiress gets away with a stolen battleship and hundreds of young trolls, to start her own Empire far away. 

The Condesce looked upon her ancient mother, who so lovingly shook the earth, hunted for her, and whos power assured her safety when she was only a small grub, fluttering in the water in an attempt to swim. Her ancient, beautiful, horrifying mother. So kind, so dangerous, she floated close, and rested her hand upon one of Gl'bgolyb's eyes. Under the lusus-white shell were millions of veins of royal Tyrian pink. She was beginning to get antsy. There were two of her children, both of age, both ready to take or retake control of the Empire. And there still was. And there still was. The Condesce was supposed to have fought her Heiress to the death, her mother kindly explained, in the silent language they had spoken with for centuries. The emotions, the confusion, the alien maternal instincts, were beginning to make her raise her voice, from the silence, to the beginning of an invisible whisper. That whisper, if it were allowed to come forward, would spell the death of every rustblooded troll in the galaxy. It would take years for there to be enough for even a poor army. Even if they were the most plentiful, worthless caste of their species, they were absolutely necessary to the Empire. 

Her mother had to be silenced. 

But the Heiress was gone. 

There were only two choices. The Condesce could surrender her position to her cowardly Heiress, kill herself, and allow the teenage girl who ran away to become the one to rule the entire Alternian Empire.

 

Or she could silence her mother. 

Her own life, or that of her benevolent lusus? The creature that meant the most to her in all the worlds?

She made sure it was done painlessly. Quickly. So fast that not even a gasp of surprise could come from the massive white beak. She pulled an entire warship, so wonderfully pointed and sharp, capable of ramming through a steel meteor at the speed of light and not take a dent, through her mother's city-sized brain almost as fast. Pink gushed into the currents, choking out any other color, and swarms and swarms of sea life came to feed on the suddenly harmless carcass of the largest creature to live on the planet. 

She roared in rage at the Heiress, moaned in absolute sorrow at her mother, and summoned her flagship immediately. 

Her crewmen knew what had happened, they had seen the lesser battleship, the second greatest of the fleet, sacrificed to save all of trollkind from her Lusus. They understood what it meant to her, and they were on the ground, faces pressed to the floor, absolutely silent as she marched through the halls to her private room. Refusing to show weakness to her trolls. The door guards bowed when she arrived. One opened his mouth to speak, but as her glare shifted to her, the guard let it fall, bowing instead. 

She swung the doors open and closed them behind her, consumed with more emotions than she ever had before in her life. She became aware of a troll standing in the throne room, and seeing the small size, the lack of armor, decided he wasn't worth more than a punching bag. She grabbed him by the throat, consumed with fury, and let him struggle in her arms for a few seconds before throwing him across the room. 

It wasn't doing anything for the rage or the sorrow, but after enough time, experience told her, losing herself in the violence would let her calm down. She just needed to let it out. 

She marched up to the troll, picked him up by the shoulder, and pulled back her fist in what would have been a punch light enough that it would make a sound, but not end the therapy right away. But she saw the welt on his neck, the imprint of her fingers a deep, fire-hot, sunlight red. 

He swears, his voice is sharp, like he's used to shouting, but it comes out like a gasp, a pitiful hopeless plea. 

"...Y-yeah. You're important." The cults, the heretical rebellious lowblood religion. She still had things to do. It was not the end of the world. She had prevented that. The empire didn't suddenly not exist because she had to kill her lusus. Lots of trolls had to put down their own lusii. It was... normal. She had work to do, she could mourn her mother later she could- she dropped him. Her responsibilities choked away the rage. And without the rage to balance out and counteract it, there was nothing left but sorrow. "I still have stuff to do." The sadness was all-consuming. She had killed her mother. Glub-glub wasn't there anymore. The massive demonic cephalopod was no longer a responsibility in the back of her mind. She no longer had that nagging feeling of whether she was being fed properly, or whether she was happy, or if she was going to end trollkind. 

She sank into her chair and began to sob. She couldn't think, she just knew that her lusus was dead. When she opened her eyes, pink liquid poured from them, and an entirely new wave of regret surged through her. She tried desperately to think of the Heiress, to turn her emotions back toward fury, she could deal with fury, but when she thought of the younger Peixes, she only thought about how that one lost her mother too. 

She sat in her throne, hugging herself for who knows how long, when a warm, small, hand patted across her face. _Who dared?!_ But it wasn't enough. She couldn't bring herself to care, only calming down as the warm hands patted her cheeks and her forehead, calming her, as he shooshed down her anguish, helped her slowly control herself. Comforted her back into cognition. 

As she stopped crying, left only with a small hiccup in the bottom of her chest, she opened her eyes and saw the troll she choked for the first time. Not through the blinds of pure anger, but just staring forward. He was so small. Smaller than any troll she's seen on board a ship. He was wearing a fluffy oversized black sweater, with a grey handcuff symbol lovingly sewn in. His eyes were big and still mostly grey, though the red color that was peeking through was clearly not maroon, but primary, bright, dying-sun-red. His horns were nubby and insignificantly small. Everything about him seemed soft and round and edgeless. The closest thing that came to pointy on him was his messy hair.

"...Kid, what's your name?" She says.

"...K-Karkat Vantas." He says.

"And what the everliving fresh fuck did you think you were doin' just now?" She says, daring him to say something cull-worthy.

"I... I don't know. You just seemed like you... needed it?" That was definitely cull-worthy, if anyone less fluffy and so inexplicably sympathetic and-

...pitiful...

-had said it. 

She keeps staring at him, taking in every detail of the downright tiny troll. 

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks, and the way he sounds so threatened, so scared, makes her want to kill whatever made him feel that way. But she already decided she wasn't going to do that. 

"Nah." She says, resolutely. All the cult stuff can wait. "Nah." She had mourned, but the Empire could wait a few more minutes. 

She picks him up, and he weighs next to nothing. "...Just shut up for a while. Your voice is pretty gratin'." As cute as it was, it was almost painfully loud. She takes him into her lap, like he's a wriggler's comfort toy, and hugs him close to her chest, fluffy sweater and all. He's so small his entire back can fit on top of her stomach. 

"O-ok." He says, nervously.

She almost cracks up. "What did I  _just_  say, mutant." She says, with a false harshness, and almost giggles when he seems to contract in on himself.

"S-" He almost apologizes out loud before catching himself and slamming his mouth closed, holding his breath. 

"You don't have to hold your damn breath." He lets out a little burst of air, but remains just a tense as ever. 

Hesitantly, surprising even herself with her gentleness, she began petting his head, shooshing and papping softly, leaning back and letting him lean down with her, a comforting warmth on her chest. "shoooosh, brat." She said, as he finally began to relax and lean into her, appearing even more soft every second. "Don't worry Vantas." She begins. "Nofin's goin' to hurt you here. Just relax, stop juttin' your elbows into me." He lets go completely, and allows himself to be hugged into her. 

She wasn't really sure why she was doing this. It was a sudden, a feel-of-the-moment action. She was absolutely miserable, more torn up about anything she had ever been torn up about before, and this... child... clammed her down in minutes. She had never felt such a well of pale feelings form so quickly for anyone.

She knew the secret behind it of course, he was a mutant lime-blood, after all. One of her predecessors had them culled from the spectrum, for "dangerously powerful psychic abilities". Truly though, it was their pacifying effects on highbloods her ancestor had feared. In the time before her time, every highblood had a lime moirail, if they could. Their blood was the same color of the sopor slime that dulls the nightmares of her race. They had the same calming effect. They had far too much influence over the aristocracy for lowbloods, and so they were culled, an entire caste removed to remove any limiters of power on the highbloods. 

That didn't mean the emotions she felt weren't real. He calmed her, but she wanted to calm him as well. This precious, mutant, soft, weak, frightened little shrimp of a troll. He was absolutely pitiable. She had taken hundreds of lovers in every quadrant over the years, more so Matesprits than any other, as very few were cocky enough to try and become rivals with the Condesce, very few could calm her fury or earn her pity, and so very few interfered with her fights and survived. But this was the strongest she had felt about a moirail in a long time. 

He began to twitch on her stomach, and she realized that Karkat had fallen asleep. He cried out slightly from the nightmares, occasionally screaming and reaching for his wrists, but every time she shooshed him, and patted and rubbed the top of his head, running her thumb over his tiny candycorn nub horns, and he would calm back down into relatively peaceful slumber. He needed a recuperacoon, she decided, and she got up, careful not to disturb him, and carried him through a secret tunnel (one of many) that led from the throne room to one of her private chambers. She quickly pulled off his clothes, dribbled with pink tears, and set him into the slime for a proper rest. 

Setting his clothes nearby she leaned into the wall and considered him, sleeping in a coon a dozen times his size. 

He was the descendant of that rabble-rowser. The Signless, as one cult called him, the Sufferer, as another did. Both cults pledging loyalty to him. The Sufferer cult attempting to dismantle the hemospectrum, hiding refugees and kidnapping Alternian children from their lusii to live in hidden bases throughout the galaxy, preaching peace and hemonymity and quadrantless love free from the threat of drones. The Signless Cult was spread quietly among the lowbloods, as well as the story of the Summoner, and was a call to arms that repeated over and over among the lowblood communities, with no sign of dissent for years, and suddenly a spark as dozens of psychics would assasinate their betters, a call to reverse the hierarchy of the hemospectrum. 

Both were major problems. But ones she's dealt with for years. She initially planned to use the Descendant, should he ever appear, as a method of forcing the cults to reveal themselves. Or, if he was taken by them first, to take him out, and all the cultists, while they unified under him. Either way, forcing all the squeakbeasts out of the woodwork at once, and culling all of them. Then he would be killed quietly. No more martyrs. The Grand Highblood messed up all those centuries ago, making the execution so public. 

But now...

The Descendant of the Signless Sufferer, neither signless nor suffering. Living in the luxury of the seadwellers, a personal consort of the Empress they opposed. How would the Cultists react to that? Of finding their savior in the arms of the evil Empress, being comforted from his nightmares? 

It was a delicious irony. 

And even if that didn't matter, if that wouldn't deal with the Cultists issue at all. She was the Condesce, she could do whatever she wanted, and she had found her moirail, on the hardest night of her life, after thousands of years of searching, she had found a moirail she felt she was meant to be with, delivered to her front step, at the moment she needed one most. It was serendipity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing romance, pale or otherwise. Tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Karkat drifted slowly awake, raising his head from the slime and slowly blinking it out. He reached instinctively to his side, to grip the edge of his coon, to find there was nothing there. Caught by surprise, and now fully awake, he glanced around him, at the massive, luxuriously high quality recuperacoon he was in, and the memories of the previous night hit him like a ton of bricks. He opened his mouth and an unintelligible sound left it.

He gripped his head, and submerged himself in slime once more, letting it sink into him and calm him. He needed to be calm to think.

That was a lie. He was almost never calm. Though it seemed like Past Karkat didn't think often either. 

He had no idea what was about to happen. He wondered what happened after he fell asleep like an idiot. He was on the imperial flagship, he had met with Her Imperious Condescension, and he was still just as sun-disgusting-mutant-candy red as always. How the hell was he even alive? 

Was he going to be experimented on? Executed publicly for his mutation? Tortured to death? If so, why was he allowed to peacefully sleep in the biggest, softest, best-mixed recuperacoon he had ever seen?

It just didn't make any sense. Even if they had some kind of goal for him, after seeing the Condesce in such a moment of weakness... he should have been killed outright for it, no matter what other benefit his life might have had. 

No, none of that mattered. He was in an immense amount of danger right now, and he needed to escape discovery in one way or another. He pulled himself from the slime, gripping the farther away edge of the large coon, and pulled himself from it. Realizing he was still wearing his daytime clothes, he sighed. No time to change, so he'd have to deal with the slime crusting on his clothes for now. He slid down the side of the coon, quickly surveying the room. It was a huge cavern, decorated with gold and silver, and with sun-red and royal pink tapestries and furniture. 

The only exit was a large door, the handle positioned above his head, painted a deep royal pink. He inched up to it quietly, and pressed his ear to the door, listening for someone on the other side. 

Some mumbling, in deep, rough voices, told him that there were adults outside. By the tone of the voices it appeared to be calm, simple conversation. So they weren't prepared for him. He quickly summoned his sylladex, and reached for one of his scythes. If he was lucky he could rush past them, it seemed to only be two, and slice both their necks at once. He had practiced the maneuver hundreds of times, thousands of times. Well, those were on a practice dummy, with light, dull, beginner's practice scythes, with no real trainer beyond replaying the same scene of _Thresh Prince_ over and over. 

But he could do this. 

The conversation stopped, suddenly, as if they sensed his determination to kill them-

Oh, of course they did. This is the Battleship Condescension. Every single soldier aboard would be the elite of elites. Of course the door guards would have some kind of psychic sensitivity!

Karkat cursed himself, backing away from the door and drawing his best scythes. His best, of course, would be of a far lower quality than those used by anyone in the Imperial fleet, and would most likely shatter if he tried to use them to cut anything but flesh. 

Things did not look good for him. He quickly scanned the rest of the room. He could try climbing one of the tapestries, and hang hiding there until he starved to death. There might be some kind of secret door, but that would be stupid. He could try to go back into the coon, feign ignorance that he had ever gotten out, or posed a threat, and just let them do what they wanted without a fight. No, that wouldn't work. He had trailed the goddamn goop all over the room. The few square feet of carpet he had ruined was probably worth more than his life, plus everything he had ever owned. 

But then, in an instant, all his thoughts stopped as the door swung open and the Empress of a thousand worlds sashayed in. She was three times his height, easy, and the two guards outside both dwarfed even her, and both carried huge, spiked, savage clubs and armor made of black and indigo steel. He wouldn't have stood a chance. 

"Hello, Vantas." She said, her voice was calm, almost gentle. "Sleep well?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. He had no idea what was going on, or what to say, or if he was going to live or die. 

Well, he was a mutant, standing before )(IC and two massive highbloods bodyguards with the most painful looking weapons he had ever seen. 

So of course he was going to die. 

What happened before then is what is important. 

She walked across the rest of the room, sitting down in a massive chair with expensive-looking cushions. With an arm gesture the two massive beasts outside shut the door, which was the right size for her, but wouldn't have even let them into the room without a lot of crawling and wriggling. "So, Vantas, tell me about yourself."

He blinked, gulping. 

"Uh... wh-what do you want to know?" He asked, almost feeling a shock from his own too-loud voice echoing off the chamber walls. 

She shrugs, looking at him with the same predatory look as last night. "Whatever you feel like telling." She smiles. "Then I tell you what I want to tell. We could go back and forth."

Karkat blinked once more. "I... uh.." this seemed really pale, actually. But that was impossible, wasn't it? "Well... not much has really happened to me." He began, experimentally. She just kept watching, her face betraying no emotion but genuine interest. Whether that interest was in killing him, eating him, hearing his story, or just finding out what his blood would look like on the wall, he had no idea. "Honestly, the most interesting thing that's happened  to me- well, not interesting, more like anything in the sense of being @#$%ing notable all happened yesterday night."

The Condesce shrugged. "Whale? Tell me what happened."

"I mean... you were there for the best part, the rest of it was me just being a goddamn sponge-brain wandering one place to another, mourning my own existence as I wishy-washed between running for my worthless life and just lying on the ground belly-up for the drones to get a candy-flavored midnight snack as they grabbed everyone of recruitment age." He froze, realizing what he said, before quickly shouting "not that I'd ever run from recruitment! I've been dreaming of this since I was wriggler, hell I've been wanting to join the threshecutioners since I first saw a Thresh Prince rerun-" he slapped himself in the face, hissing at his own stupidity, "I mean, you have to- not that you have to do anything you don't want to do you're the @#$%ing Condesce- but, please understand that I'm a mutant, whose going to get culled so hard I'll choke on my own entrails before I've even properly bled out- not that I want to give you ideas but- oh @#$% me" his brain was absolute chaos right now. And she just kept watching, her face still holding that predatory interest. He was crashing and burning. Perhaps it was his own subconscious self-loathing, intentionally sabotaging himself in order to assure his destruction even quicker. "I mean, I'm a mutant, so of course I thought it would be pretty damn likely that I was going to get culled, because, I mean, there's mutants, who get culled, and then there's me, whose freaking off-spectrum! I mean, of all the bullshit hemospectrum stuff I've had to deal with as a kid, I knew that it'd be even worse as an adult, because they @#$%ing enforce it, and check it, and like, how could I fight alongside my caste when I'm... this? I knew I was going to die if I came, and despite my rambling and idiocy I'm not _really_ suicidal-"

And then she began laughing. A maniacal, hooting, uncontrolled laugh. She just kept going, after half a minute she was clutching at her own stomach, giggling like a rugwriggler at a flashing light. "Oh glub, you're adorabubble." She finally said. "You little baby, tripping over yourself."

For a second he blushed, furious that she'd just write him off like that. His hormones had been screaming that he was close to death since he woke up, and her body-shaking laughter brought a rush of new hormones he didn't really recognize, and his own ever-constant rage had finally been brought back to the forefrunt in the confusion of emotion, brought on by what else that a petty insult. "I'm not @#$%ing adorable! I'm a ruthless warrior, 100% troll, old enough to be shot onto the battlefield and @#$% up all manner of monster the Empire decides to throw me at!" He growled, and she blinked, caught off-guard, before breaking into a whole new level of laughter that embarrassed him even more. But now that striking out at others was proven to not work, the rage turned inwards and he began ragging on himself for being a petty, bragging, overcompensating ass.

And then he realized he wasn't shouting at Terezi, or Sollux, or even a stranger on the street, but the Condesce, and new waves of fear sprung up to silence the rage. Knowledge of the mental broken stability of highbloods' minds told him, as it should have told him right away, that just because she was laughing her head off didn't mean she wasn't about to bite off his. 

"Oh Vantas." She giggled, finally. "You crack me up. I really needed that." She got up, and before he even realized it she was right next to him, scooping him up, and taking him back to the couch. His mind turned to the previous night, and he realized how cool her body was, compared to the warmth of crabdad or his own body. She once again gripped him to her chest, but this time laid down on the couch, with him lying on top of her chest, facing upwards to the ceiling. 

"Uh..." Karkat began, but he found a massive dark hand covering the entirety of his head, shooshing him. 

"I didn't really have that good of a day either." The Condesce began. 

Karkat immediately shut up, and stopped all attempts at struggling. He was beginning to understand the situation. "...Uh, Your Imperious Condescension?" He asked, underneath her hand. 

"Call me Meenah." And that just about confirmed it. There were long and detailed records on the Condesce' reign. They were obviously heavily censored, but that was normal. Despite that, they were incredibly meticulous, and detailed the transition between the previous Empress and this one. But that was it, she was the Heiress, and then she was the Condesce. No name, no title beyond that. No one on Alternia knew, or needed to know the name of the Condesce. 

"Um... are... are you pale-flirting... with, uh... me?" Damn it he sounded like Tavros using a megaphone.

She giggled, scratching the spot between his horns slightly. "Looks like we have a professional Legislacerator here."

"...Why?"

The Condesce was silent for a time, before getting up and setting Karkat down beside her. He felt like a child on the massive couch, his legs dangling off the side. "Last night... I had to fight my Heiress."

"Feferi." Karkat said before he could stop himself, getting a cold chill. She was probably dead, if the Condesce was standing here. But she didn't seem to notice, continuing without stopping. 

"I had descended dramatically, put together the whole shebang, and went to the designated spot. The same as with every Heir and Heiress before her." She was slowly getting angrier. "But she never showed up. She had stopped feeding Gl'bgolyb in preparation, taken one of her psionic minions," Karkat stopped himself from saying 'Sollux' "and stolen a ship. She just... ran. And I couldn't follow her, or else Gl'bgolyb would cull literally every troll in the Empire. That selfish beach just... forsook her mother and ran! She left me stranded on Alternia, to take care of Gl'bgolyb." She roared. "She rejected her duties, her reason for living! Her lusus! My lusus!" She quieted, sobering very quickly. "Gl'bgolyb demands that the Condesce and the Heiress duel for supremacy, for the position of Empress. And she was getting upset, realizing that the Heiress had run." The pink tears began to well up. "I didn't know what to do! Mama was going to destroy everything I built! Eradicate all my subjects at once! So I culled her. I reached up, and dragged a battleship through her so quick she died without a whisper." The tears had begun to fall down. "So I went back to the ship, and I saw you standing there, and I turned all my rage at you. I was going to punish you, wash my hands in your blood, then turn around and do the same to my guards, and anyone else I found, until everything around me would be dripping with blood." The roaring was back, but she stopped, and looked at Karkat's scared face. "But instead, I realized who you were. And how small you were. And it brought me back. I was on the brink of a clampage, and because of you, I came back from it. You calmed me down, accidently or not." She stroked his face, and smiled. "Serendipity. On the worst day of my life, in the worst rage of my life, you appeared to me. You pitiable, tiny, fragile, precious child, you came when I needed you most, and calmed me down." Her fingers curled in the slime-covered mop of his hair, and Karkat found himself relaxing despite himself. "Destiny, Vantas. You were meant to be my moirail."

Karkat hesitated before speaking. He had not expected that gush of feelings. He- Oh God this was a feelings jam. He had done the same thing, in his ramble three minutes ago. 

"I've never had a moirail before." He said dumbly. 

"Whale, it's simple really." She said. "You try your best to keep me calm, I do the same for you. When we're upset, we comfort each other. If we're dealing with something, we feeling jams it out, and figure out how to deal with it permanently. We keep each other sane. We keep each other safe, balance each other out."

He rolled his eyes. "I know what a moirail _is_."

She rolled her eyes as well, attempting to ruffle his hair and only succeeding in spraying slime everywhere. "First things first though, we get you a bath."

Karkat blushed bright red, prompting another round of giggling from Meenah. "I can clean myself!"

"You don't even know where it is."

He looked to the side, insulting himself in his head, and she shook her head. "See, already I'm seeing that I have work ahead of me, in your whacked-up little mutant head Vantas."

"Call me Karkat."

"Only if you call me Meenah."

"...Do... Do I have a choice, in all this?"

The Condesce turned towards him, her face appearing impossibly gentle, for a murderess. "Karkat, you're bright red. I think it was meant to be, we saved each other, last night. You saved me from my rampage, and you'll keep saving me from that rage when it comes back. And I saved you from your culling, and for the rest of your life, I'll protect you." She said, smiling. "Serendipity, really."

Karkat looked at the floor. "That..." He gulped. "That didn't really answer my question."

"Karkat, think about it, where else in the Empire would you be safer, if not in my arms? Where else in the Empire would you not be killed on sight?"

Karkat nodded, and decided to steel himself for his new life as the Moirail of the Condesce. 

He wanted to slap himself, for being self-pitying in this situation. It was more than his wildest dreams. More than most trolls wildest dreams. It was an impossibility, yet it was happening. Almost every troll in the Empire would kill for this position, in an instant, if given the chance. He was safe from culling, with the only cost that the Condesce will listen to his rants, and laugh. 

And, despite all probability, the previous night, after seeing a woman with all the power in the universe, all that strength and rage and respect, crying over the death of her lusus. He did pity her. Despite all the trappings of royalty, she was still a troll, with emotions just like anyone else. 

He could love her. 

He would. He thought he always had, if not in a pale way, than in the devotion of someone who wanted to be in her honor guard.

He would be a good moirail, or at least try. His life depended on it. 


	3. Chapter 3

"This is @#$%ing stupid." 

"Shut up." The Condesce replied, pushing him deeper into the ablution trap's warm and soapy water. 

"I'm not some wriggler! I can clean myself!" Karkat growled, attempting to pry himself from Meenah's arms, and failing. 

"Shore, shore." She said. "But this is more fun."

"Let me @#$%ing go!" he hissed, managing to catch the side of the tub with a foot and pulling, allowing himself to slip from Meenah's hold and splash into the water. 

"Whoops there he goes. Little bug swept down the drain and never heard from again."

"Ha. Ha." He righted himself and grabbed onto the ledge. "Now let me wash myself."

"nope." She pulled a bottle from somewhere and tipped it into the water, before pressing a button on the side of the tub. Karkat screamed as he was bombarded by a sudden motion of water as the jets turned on and huge amounts of pink bubbles began filling the water, enveloping him completely. 

"WHAT IS THIS" Karkat shouted, whipping bubbles out of his face as Meenah laughed. 

"It's called a bubblebath."

"NO, I mean the water trying to rip the flesh from my shoulders!" He hissed, trying to pull himself out of the tub. 

"Those are the jets. They make the bubbles." She said, peeling off her suit and climbing in herself, giving a sigh of relief. "They're therapeutic."

Karkat grunted and moved to position himself between two of the jets, so neither hit him head on. The two sat in the warm water for a few minutes, remaining mostly silent, listening to the sound of the jets and letting themselves be submerged in bubbles. 

The Condesce was the first to break the silence, reaching to the side of the tub and bringing up a large magenta sponge. "Come here, crabby."

"N- no, I can wash myself-" he almost sighed as he was scooped up bodily by the larger troll. She began scrubbing the bits of slime still sticking to him, gliding the sponge down his entire body in a single motion, Karkat began blushing bright red. Meenah hesitated for a second, caught off-guard by the almost glowing red color, but she smiled and kept sponging off the sopor. 

The younger troll gave a grunt of relief as she stopped, his new moirail satisfied with his level of cleanliness. She set him down, and held the sponge in front of one of the jets, rinsing it clean.  "You're going to get slime in the water!" Karkat protested. 

"Don' worry." She said happily. "Everything's being constantly filtered, you expect the Condesce to bathe in filth? Nah, this trap's for getting clean, I've got other tubs for relaxin and stuff." She handed him the now pristine sponge, and rolled over in the water, presenting him with her back. "Now you scrub me."

Karkat hesitated, this seemed to be something that should be done by servants, or with guards present... the Empress was exposing herself, her back, to him. They had only been moirails for a few hours... Maybe she just thought he would be too frightened to make an assassination attempt, which was true, or that even if he tried he wouldn't be able to hurt her. 

Carefully, he began scrubbing her back, moving gently, still uncomfortable with how easily she seemed to be trusting him. Her back was taller than he was, and he grumbled slightly. "It's not exactly fair, is it, you have at least four times my surface area."

She snorted in the water, laughing like she had earlier. His heart fluttered slightly at the sound, whether in his strange affection for her, or in residual mortal terror. "You callin me fat?" She asked sharply, amused, but not _that_ amused. Not _as_ amused as earlier.

"No, I'm calling you tall." He said quickly, yes, definitely mortal terror. He was unbelievably stupid, in hindsight. At least she still sounded _amused_.

He decided to devote himself to his current task, and scrubbed her back as efficiently as he could. But halfway through, he realized that, as her... moirail... he should probably try doing it more intimately. She was probably expecting that? If she just wanted a troll to clean her back she would have servants for that. This was supposed to be done as moirails. He unfortunately had no idea on how that was supposed to work. So he settled for going slower, and being more thorough. She seemed to notice the difference, and relaxed slightly. 

Karkat pushed Meenah's hair away from her back, it was beginning to get unruly, blasted one way or another by the jets, and he found himself continually pushing it off to the side in a single bundle as he scrubbed. 

By the end of it, he was blushing furiously, dipping the sponge into the jet like he saw her do it minutes before, and watched as she flipped over, running her claws through her hair, letting it fall and spill back into the water, creating a sort of black aura around her. She motioned for Karkat to come closer, and she once again grabbed him and lifted him up bodily. He seized up at first, the sudden movement renewing the constant fear that hung in the back of his head, but all she did was set him outside the tub.

"hmm..." 

"...What?"

"Y'need some new threads."

"I-" but he stopped himself there, because he really did. All he had left to his name were the sopor-soaked clothes he had fallen asleep in the previous day, and his sweater, which someone took off of him before dumping him in. "Yeah, okay. Whatever floats your boat."

Her eyes lit up. "Was that a fish pun?!"

"Whuh- no! No it wasn't! It's a god damn normal phrase, and it had nothing to do with your apparently shared universal seadweller fish fetish!"

"You totally made a fish pun." She gushed, rising out of the large bath unceremoniously, her hair, heavy with water, immediately fell down on her, making a natural black cloak. She grabbed Karkat by the hand and led him off in another direction, but he tried to pull away.

"Can't I at least get @#$%ing dry before you drag me hell knows where?"

"Shore." She said, rolling her eyes, and dragging him away to a vent in the wall. She deposited him on a chair in front of it, and then flicked a switch. The smaller troll screamed as he was bombarded with a sudden rush of hot air, but it ended just as soon as it started, and his new moirail picked him up and started fussing with his hair, suddenly fluffy from getting dried.

* * *

 

"Yo, clothes-troll, hook me up." She ordered casually, and Karkat watched as an appropriately terrified troll woman summoned a black and pink bodysuit from her sylladex, presenting it to Meenah, and upon receiving a nod, began clothing the empress in it. It was a nearly mechanical process, that was apparently routine. Meenah angled her head slightly when it was done to look over her shoulder at Karkat, who was watching with interest. "And get something for my moirail here."

"Of course." The troll answered, and sped down the hall. The Condesce bent down and began running her massive fingers through his hair, unambiguously still enjoying the sudden fluff from the drier. Karkat rolled his eyes and through back on his lusus, who seemed to have the same fondness for Karkat's hair when it stuck up. The troll returned soon enough, and presented a small set of robes, and upon receiving a nod from the Condesce, promptly dressed Karkat too fast for him to protest or complain.

He grumbled under his breath, but stopped when he saw the clothes-troll getting worried. He walked over to a nearby mirror, that ran from the floor to the ceiling, and looked at himself. The robes were surprisingly ornate, though considering his new... position, he shouldn't have been so surprised. The theme was, as per usual for trolls, mainly black, but it was accented in many places with pinks ranging from, ironically, imperial red, to the Empress's own Tyrean pink, to the pale white-pink that represented moirallegiance. He once again became very aware that the robes he was wearing was of a higher quality than anything he had ever touched. Worth more than his entire hive. It was slid over his head, and his arms were then guided through the sleeves, but that was about it. He could have done with some underwear, but he really didn't want to have his body measured for anything closer-fitting. 

"You like?" Meenah asked happily. 

Karkat was about to reply passive-aggressively, but he caught himself. He was beginning, just beginning, to realize that although he was most definitely still in mortal danger, not every stupid thing he did would be a death warrant. This made him mad at himself, considering how many stupid thing's he already did, thinking that they could be. But in this case, he caught himself because of the clothes-troll. "It's great." He replied. It wasn't hard to put the impressed feeling in his voice, he was amazed with it. 

The clothes troll gave a slight change in posture that signified relief, and Karkat himself contented with that being enough. "So, now that I've already been washed and dressed like a wriggler, what other bullshit do you want to do to me?"

The Condesce smiled, turning her head down to meet his eyes. "Whale, I'm personally famished... I haven't eaten anything since.... yesterday." She quieted suddenly, thinking of yesterday's events once more, and Karkat found once again that he acted on instinct, cupping both of his hands around one of hers. 

"Then let's go get something to eat. My new goal is to become monstrously obese on what will undoubtedly be the highest-quality nourishment paste served in the universe." He pulled slightly, not enough to actually move her in any direction, especially since he didn't really have any idea where food might be located, but enough that it made her inclined to step forward, and from there she led the way down one hall and the next, toward a place where they could have their evening meal.

* * *

 

The young troll sighed in ecstasy as he swallowed one piece of food after the next. He had never tasted anything like this in his life. Most of the stuff he didn't even begin to recognize. He was actually a finicky eater, for a troll, but with this stuff he ate all of it. it was almost a crime not to eat it. It seemed unfair to him, that he was being deprived of stuff like this his whole life. Did Eridan eat like this? He knew Gamzee sure as hell didn't, but he knew that Vriska and Equius always ate better than him... though it could be that they were better cooks.

The Condesce watched him with a soft smile on her face. He was cute, that was for sure. Although she had declared him her moirail, and while she had definitely felt an emotional connection, she still wasn't absolutely sure. He had been hesitant in the bath. A small voice inside her told her that was normal. That he was doing exceptionally well, considering how fast it all happened. 

He was a mutant. That lovely bright-red color she painted her ships and her weapons, reminiscent of the Sun, was the sign of his impurity. She was the Empress, she was the enforcer of the Hemospectrum. The grandest, highest, purest troll in existence. She couldn't disregard it. The Highbloods would call it blasphemy, when they found out she spared the creature that was off-spectrum. But it would be a greater blasphemy to disobey her. Karkat was...

He was a rarity. 

A valuable jewel. A surviving lime-blood, but in her favorite color. He was adorable, he was so pitiable, and he earnestly pitied her as well. He _sympathized_. Yes, Karkat wasn't a piece of useless coal unfit for the Empires's grand machine, he was a diamond, to be worn as a badge of the Empire's power. Yes. This was an argument she could accept. She couldn't accept a mutant, a flagrant aberration of the spectrum, but she could accept the universe giving her the gift of a perfect, unique, one-of-a-kind moirail. 

He wasn't a lowblood, a midblood, or a highblood. 

He was simply hers.

She smiled, as he choked slightly, attempting to stuff too much pudding into his mouth at once. 


	4. Chapter 4

"No @#$%ing way. Absolutely not." She snorted, trying to hold back her laughter. In front of her, a nervous olive-blood stood at attention. Next to her, her moirail was freaking out, stars in his eyes. "You're Troll Will Smith!" Her moirail cried.

"Uh, yes." The former threshecutioner, and then later on movie star, answered, careful to keep his eyes- well, he wasn't sure where to put them. He had been called before the Condesce. He was absolutely terrified, but he hadn't really been expecting this situation. He had assumed that, as the best possible thing that could happen, the Condesce was seduced by watching his TV show, and then proceeded to summon him here to make him the official Matesprite. At worst, that soemthing in one of his films offended her, and he was here to be tortured to death. What he did not expect was...

well, this. 

"Oh my God. I have every season of Thresh Prince, or at least, I did, when I still had my house, I use sickles because of it! I learned everything I knew about it from you, oh man, I wanted to be a Threshecutioner so bad, you were my idol!"

"Whoa there crabcakes." She said, and her moirail and the movie star both flinched. "You're heapin' more praise on Smithy here than you did me."

"Well- um," Will Smith winced, feeling like he was about to watch a culling. You watched your tongue around the Condesce, or you died. Was a fact of life. "I mean, he's pretty great. And you're really great, but in different areas? Like, he's an absolute badass- not to say you're not an absolute badass, you could probably kick his ass, no! Definitely, you could defintiely kick his ass, please don't actually kick his ass to prove it- NOT THAT YOU HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING- he's like a movie badass, he's just badass on camera, not that you don't look good on camera, everyone loves seeing you in the propaganda videos," he turned to the movie star, hands still up in his placating gesture, "-and I'm sure you're a badass outside of the videos too, I mean, you were a God-Damned threshecutioner! Just, nowhere near as real-badass as Meenah- I MEAN THE CONDESCE, I MEAN HER IMPERIOUS-" and she just broke up laughing, and Will Smith stared, fearful, as she began to laugh maniacally, sinking into her throne and pulling her knees to her chest, laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. Then, somehow, his eyes were torn away, to where her kid moirail was furiously blushing an impossible red color.

"Oh shell yes. You." She managed, between gasps, pointing at the movie star. "You, you need to be in more comedies. Because you freakin' crack me up."

"Yes, your Imperious Condescension." Will Smith intoned, bowing. 

"Wait- before you go, damn it, just, wait a second, I need to get my computer." The moirail ran off, leaving the room, and Will Smith was left alone with the Condesce, who was still giggling. 

"Aint he just the most adorable little poofy shrimp?" She asked, smiling.

"Yes." Will Smith said, one didn't disagree with )(IC.

Soon the kid was back, carrying a purple computer, and he rushed past the Condesce without even a glance, walking in front of the movie star and presenting it proudly. "Could, could you look at my script? I mean, it's not professional or anything, I mean, it's probably shit, oh who am I kidding, it's complete garbage, but-" he had a hopeful look in his eye "It's not utter sewage, right? I mean, just, read through, think about it."

The adult troll glanced down at the small, off-spectrum... child... holding a computer displaying a paragraph in all-caps, which was probably the name of the movie. This, this he could deal with. He looked up to the Condesce, asking for orders wordlessly, but she just raised a single eyebrow and and gestured to her moirail with a threatening smile. He turned back down to the computer being held up by the small troll and began scrolling through, reading the dialogue of the-

it was a romantic comedy, an incredibly complicated romantic comedy, with a complex love dodecahedron spread across every quadrant, with every letter written in bold all-caps. It was also terrible. Absolutely terrible. It would devastate his career, no, who was he kidding, he was Will Smith, he could pull off anything, but it would devastate the next sweep, for sure. The critikillers would attempt to rip him apart. Literally, for a few especially-passionate ones. 

He glanced back up to the Condesce, her grin was absolutely evil now, and also incredibly amused. He had forgotten to shield the emotions from his face. The kid, luckily, had the computer held up above his head, nearly shoved into Will Smith's chest, and hadn't seen the hurricane of emotions ranging from distaste to disgust with the level of writing and plot. 

"So, will you take the role?" the mutant child asked innocently and loudly.

He glanced up at the Condesce once more, his face wordlessly begging for mercy. 

The Condesce is not a merciful Tyrant. 

He gulped, put on his best actor-smile and turned down to the troll, decorated in the clothes of the royal Moirail. "Sure kid." He said, attempting to be casual. 

The child screamed, wrenching the computer away and running once more from the room "I'll get you a printout!!" 

The Condesce once again began to giggle.

* * *

 

"You're the best moirail ever." Karkat whispered, transfixed by the video of the crew working on _his_ movie, starring _Troll Will Smith_. "I mean, obviously, you're the best moirail a troll could have within the entirety of trolldom, by default, but I mean, really, really, you are the best ever. You are a Goddess, who is too good for the likes of me."

"All true." She said, smiling. 


End file.
